


Hearts

by wolf_on_the_hammock



Category: The Art of More
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Suicide Attempt, tag to s2e07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolf_on_the_hammock/pseuds/wolf_on_the_hammock
Summary: Samuel Brukner wasn't the only one thinking of Graham that morning. Coincidentally, so was Agent Ramirez.





	Hearts

Brukner had been keeping an eye on the crappy car tailing him. It’s been following him since half a block past his house. He had driven almost five blocks now, but the black vehicle persisted. What the hell did they want with him? Probably another one of those nasty reporters or agents trying to catch him off guard. Bloody good job they were doing.

No matter, he needed to have a talk with Graham first. That kid hadn’t been returning any of his calls, even though the bastard owed Brukner for going along with Paul Rice at Olivia’s expense. If he had known that Paul Rice was going to be at the party, he wouldn’t have let Olivia go at all. That man was a sick bastard.

So here he was, cruising down the street in his car, followed by a shitty cheap one. Brukner grunted in irritation and harshly swirled into the alleyway. To his grim satisfaction, the black car followed him. Ha, got you, motherfucker.

He pulled to an abrupt stop at the dead-end ahead and got out of the car, ready to scare the shit out of the car following behind. But it was no need, Brukner soon realized, as the driver of the other car got out as well.

“Why you following me, Agent Ramirez?”

“I was on my way to see Graham,” said the fed, leaning easily against the roof of the car. “You talked to him last night?”

“No. Tried calling. Voicemail’s full.” Brukner shrugged.

“Yeah, me too,” said Agent Ramirez, his suit shifting with the shifts of his shoulders.

“Well, I talked with Paul Rice last night.”

“You talked with him? _Graham_ is supposed to be the liaison."

“Well, not like I _want_ to talk to that white hair shit. Rice showed up at this party my daughter was attending. Now Rice knows her, and I swear, if Olivia gets hurt, I’ll personally kill Rice and hunt you and Graham down.”

Ramirez glanced at him, unperturbed by his threat. “Since you’re already on your way, let’s find Graham first, then we’ll talk about the rest.”

“That little bastard probably got himself drunk or some shit. You go ahead, I’m heading back. That’s all I wanted to say anyway.”

“No, you’re coming. I’m sure Graham’s got something for us as well.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Brukner grunted but relented.

They drove to Graham’s house. To their surprise, the door to the two-story house was unlocked and slightly ajar. Brukner exchanged a glance with Agent Ramirez who jerked his head while his hand cautiously headed for what was undoubtedly a holster. Brukner resisted the urge to mock the fed for his paranoia. What was he going to expect? A break-in? Graham was ex-military. That kid knew how to kick ass five hundred different ways even though he always looked like a posh scaredy-cat.

Brukner pushed the door ajar and headed upstairs. The house was engulfed in a hollow silence. He wanted to call out, but his voice caught in his throat. Something about the quietness creeped him out. Brukner’s eyes narrowed apprehensively. His hands trailed down the smooth railing, eyes settling on the broken shards of glass littering on the floor.

“What the…” the fed muttered, his gun sliding back in the holster as he took in the disarray near the far wall of the room.

Glittering in pieces was a broken bottle of wine. There was still some liquid beneath the jagged edges and they puddled around the larger pieces of shards. The smaller ones scattered all over the floor, some reaching as far as the kitchen landing.

Brukner bent down, picking up a little orange container. The label was half-torn and the container itself was empty. He glanced around. There were no pills. An empty container of pills and shattered glass. His heart beat a little faster with dread.

“What the fuck did you do, Graham?” muttered Brukner as he placed the container back on the ground, eyes traveling to the bathroom door. It was not fully open nor was it fully closed. Something was holding it at an angle yet no sound came from behind the door.

Brukner’s steps were slow, heart thundering and thoughts traveling at an unbelievable speed as he eased the door slowly open. The first thing he saw was the glint of the butt of a gun against the eerie pale light of the morning streaming from the window. Then the dried faint splatters of dark red. Then at the body in the bathtub, head lolled against the wall and features lax.

His mind didn’t process it for a moment because this just wasn’t—

“ _Graham_!” shouted Brukner as he stumbled into the bathtub, reaching the unresponsive young man. “ _Graham_!”

The eyes remained peacefully shut and his skin was clammy and cold despite the soft splotches of pink on his cheeks. Brukner shook him. Graham’s head lolled against Brukner’s firm grip with no sign of waking. He shook him again, eyes widening in terrified alarm as he slapped the young man on his cheek desperately. C’mon, Graham. _Come on_! _What are you doing?_

“Bruk—?” said Agent Ramirez as he rushed to the bathroom. “Oh _shit,_ Graham!”

Brukner’s rough fingers felt for a pulse beneath the clammy skin of Graham’s neck. His heart’s loud thumping had him growling in irritation when he couldn’t focus. “C’mon, Graham. What the fuck you doing?”

There wasn’t a heartbeat. Brukner moved a hand to the kid’s nose. No air. No breath. No. No no _no_.

“He’s not breathing!” yelled Brukner as he bodily hauled Graham out of the bathtub and laid him on the ground. “He’s not breathing!”

Agent Ramirez dropped onto his knees and pressed his ear flat against Graham’s chest, right over his heart. “ _Graham_.”

The fed straightened and furiously pumped down on the kid’s chest, trying to get his heart beating again. Brukner ran a hand through his hair, truthfully scared out of his wits as his heart roared with each passing second that Graham remained a motionless pale body on the floor of his own bathroom.

Agent Ramirez tilted Graham’s mouth back and breathed out. Once. Twice. Then back to the chest, body shifting up and down angrily. “Oh no, you’re not doing this when we’re this close.”

Brukner sat down, back against the smooth curve of the bathtub. Graham’s head drifted to the side. Agent Ramirez set it back facing the ceiling as he bent down to breath into Graham’s mouth. Tightly, Brukner curled his fists together, wanting to punch something. Was this what Graham meant when he came to Brukner a few days ago, asking for his help and telling him that he had already given Rice his name? What was it the kid had said? _It might mean my life_. Fucking bloody—

A breath.

“That’s it, Graham. That’s it. Keep breathing,” Agent Ramirez exclaimed. “It’s okay. C’mon, breathe. Keep breathing.”

The brilliant blue eyes flickered in confusion as Graham shifted, hands reaching up to grasp his upper arms. His body was shivering. Brukner lunged forward, grabbing the kid by his shoulder and hauled him to a sitting position.

“What you doing? You dumbass!” yelled Brukner. “What you doing?”

“Hey hey, Brukner!” Agent Ramirez pried him off. “Take it easy. Take it easy.”

The fed grabbed the towel from the handle and wrapped it around Graham. The young man’s hands weakly grasped the ends as he huddled closer into himself. Blue eyes drowsily searching, Graham finally settled on their faces.

“...Ramirez. Bruk…ner?”

“Yeah, you little shit.”

“Let’s get him to the sofa,” Agent Ramirez suggested quietly, a frown of displeasure marring itself in his features as he grabbed Graham and hauled him to his feet.

“I can walk…I can walk by myself.”

So Agent Ramirez let go, watching Graham shakily took his steps out of the bathroom. Brukner whipped out his phone and called his doctor. Who knew what else Graham might have besides some serious mental retarded problems? Graham eased himself onto the sofa and let his head fall back against the pillow. His face was a little red as if he was feverish. The fed affirmed his guess as he put a hand on the warm forehead. Graham grunted in annoyance and swatted the limb away feebly.

The doctor came minutes later, walking into the heated silence between the three. She checked Graham’s temperature, asked him a few questions that he incoherently answered in curt mumbles. She left after leaving a few prescription suggestions on a piece of paper.

“I don’t need that shit,” said Graham with his eyes closed. “Throw it in the trash on your way out.”

Brukner crumbled up the paper in undisguised anger and threw it at the young man. It bounced off harmlessly but at least it forced Graham to open his eyes. “And put yourself in there while you’re at it. What the hell do you think you were doing?”

His voice was calmer, but Graham didn’t miss the shimmering heat beneath. “None of your business.”

“You tried to kill yourself,” said Agent Ramirez in chipped tone. “Why?”

“None of your business,” Graham repeated and shifted again. “You can leave now. It was an accident. I’m fine.”

“Says the guy I found dead in the bathtub.” Brukner sat down heavily on the other end of the sofa. Agent Ramirez leaned against the back of the sofa, conflicting emotions flying across his bearded face as he crossed his arms.

The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence until Graham sighed, fingering a loose thread on one of the embroiled pillows. “The guy that I was in Iraq with; he died. I found out last night.”

Brukner turned slowly. Graham’s eyes were red-rimmed, framing his glistening blue eyes as if he was on the verge of crying. Graham glanced away, finding the few shards left on the floor suddenly captivating.

“Hasan?” asked Agent Ramirez in a strange soft tone.

Graham glanced at the fed, searching Agent Ramirez’s face for a brief second before anger claimed him as he arrived at a conclusion. “ _You knew_?”

Agent Ramirez opened his mouth then closed it with a sigh before relenting. “I did. I didn’t want to tell you because it was important that you didn’t—”

“Oh, you _bastard_.” There was anger, but there was also a solemn resignation in Graham’s voice at the lowly uttered words.

“Graham.”

“You just want to get Rice so badly. You don’t even about your end of the deal, do you? You were never gonna find Uzay, were you? Always having other priorities.”

“No, that’s not—” Agent Ramirez began.

“Well, you want Rice and I want Uzay. So I’ll play your game. Until I can kill that son of a bitch with my own hands, I will play.”


End file.
